Friday, October 6, 2023

Microstory 1990: True to One’s Word

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Freeman 1: Hey, thanks for meeting me, man.
Reese: Yeah, no problem. It’s been a long time. What’s up?
Freeman 1: Well, this is sort of awkward.
Reese: Go ahead, dude. No judgments.
Freeman 1: Well, it’s just that...a few months ago, you became bonded to our group of freemen, and that was great. I mean, we don’t regret it. But since then, you haven’t really, ya know, fulfilled your obligations, you know? Like, we helped you find that escapee, and then you and Myka just disappeared. You changed your number?
Reese: Yeah, it was this legal thing. We’ve all kind of had to leave our old lives behind. I’m really sorry, though; that wasn’t cool.
Freeman 1: What exactly have you been up to? A few of the other freewomen are gone too, but they’re not dead; they still see their families. Honestly, we are all kind of worried about you, but you don’t look dead either.
Reese: You’re right, I screwed up. Uhh...I can’t tell you what we’ve been doing. We got in trouble with the government, so we’re working on that.
Freeman 1: You look free to me.
Reese: Different kind of trouble. Mixed up with them is probably a better way to put it.
Freeman 1: I see.
Reese: But I’m here now. Let’s bump phones so you can have my new number. Do you need anything today?
Freeman 1: *scratching the back of his neck* Actually we do. Well, I do.
Reese: Remember, I can’t do anything illegal for ya. Though, I think I may be able to skirt the rules for you now. I’m kind of in a better position than I was before. It’s all really complicated and weird.
Freeman 1: I’m glad to hear you say that, because it’s definitely on the outskirts.
Reese: Just ask, friend.
Freeman 1: I’m trying to buy a house. I...I got a girl pregnant, and I have to provide for them. The only job I could get pays pretty well, but it’s all under the table. That makes applying for a loan pretty difficult. I would get a different job, but no one wants to hire an ex-con, especially one who was locked up for aggravated assault and armed robbery. Big surprise, I know. I have a connection at the bank, but even he won’t just give me the loan outright. *pauses again*
Reese: What does he need?
Freeman 1: Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but by mixed up with the government, it’s pretty clear you’re saying that you’re employed by them, in some different capacity than before. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but it would really help me out if you could pose as my employer. Just say I bring you coffee or dry-cleaning, that would be enough. It just has to be from a reputable company. I dunno, is this even possible?
Reese: What do you do for a living? Are you fulfilled? Are you being exploited?
Freeman 1: Courier work. No. And probably.
Reese: Let me make a call. Let’s not fake a job. Let’s get you a real one.

Thursday, October 5, 2023

Microstory 1989: Senior Moment

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IC Commissioner: Investigator Blass. Welcome to my office. Have a seat.
Blass: Thank you for having me. I have always respected and admired your work.
IC Commissioner: Yes, yes, very good, thank you. I called you in today to fill you in on what’s been going on with our investigation into the...traitors and spies that you discovered in our midst regarding these um, O—Ocho, uhh...
Blass: You can just call them aliens, sir.
IC Commissioner: Aliens, right. Obviously I don’t know much about them, but I’ve been briefed; emphasis on the brief. It would seem that we’re in the middle of a secret cold civil war. Can you believe it? We have departments undermining other departments, elected officials making hush-hush deals. The corruption is rampant, and I’m about to get fired because I’m not doing my job.
Blass: I don’t agree with that, sir.
IC Commissioner: Well, I think I do. I let it go this far somehow without realizing it, and the only way the Internal Compliance Commission survives to fight another day may be for me to step down. But that’s neither here nor there. I think it’s somewhere in the middle. Anyway, ‘nough jokes. You have continued to work with DExA, correct?
Blass: Yes, I’m still stationed there, even though everyone knows that I’m an internal investigator. Don’t worry, they’ve been very nice and accepting.
IC Commissioner: Good. I hope you understand, we couldn’t have you involved in the interviews we did with this Sergeant Sachs asshole, because of your slight conflict of interest. Such is the price of being embedded. Now normally, you would not be entitled to further details—you still aren’t—but I, and the rest of the team involved, feel that someone on that side of things ought to know what’s going on.
Blass: Okay.
IC Commissioner: Sachs does not consider himself to be a traitor. In fact, he keeps calling the interviewers traitors instead. We have finally figured out who he has been taking his orders from, and it could spell doom for our country.
Blass: I don’t know that I should hear this; it sounds far above my paygrade.
IC Commissioner: Not anymore. *hands him a document* You’ve been promoted. Congratulations Senior Internal Investigator Blass.
Blass: Oh. Thank you, sir. This is so unexpected. *pauses* In that case, who is it?
IC Commissioner: It’s Congressman Colonel Piers Jamison.
Blass: Holy Crap. The man prides himself in rooting out corruption.
IC Commissioner: I know.
Blass: He came up through the ICC.
IC Commissioner: I know.
Blass: No matter what, the ICC loses. We look bad whether we go after him or not.
IC Commissioner: That’s right.
Blass:*face sinks* That’s why I’m being promoted.
IC Commissioner: You’re being promoted because you’re smart enough to know why you’re being promoted; because only a Senior Investigator can go overt. Congratulations again, you’re our new spokesman. Your first press conference is tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, October 4, 2023

Microstory 1988: Mind of an Alien

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Dr. Klement: This is Dr. Marius Klement. First interview with alien subject; an Ochivari from unknown world, which reportedly exists in another universe. The subject is dressed in what appears to be formal military attire, is sitting comfortably in a soft swivel chair, and has been provided food and water up to this point, as well as access to relief facilities. It appears to be stoic and calm, though the face is hard to read.
Ochivar Admiral: I’m perfectly relaxed, thank you. And the singular is Ochivar.
Dr. Klement: My mistake. Ochivar. And you’re an admiral, correct?
Ochivar Admiral: You may address me as Admiral Lojeriha. And I’m from a planet that we just call Homebase, in order to discourage attachment. But my species originated on Worlon in Salmonverse, and technically that universe’s version of Earth.
Dr. Klement: You originated on two worlds? How does that work?
Admiral Lojeriha: We are evolved from a lesser species of mega-insects, which once contained partial human DNA due to their parasitic nature. But just so you understand, we evolved out of our parasitic nature. You are in no danger around us.
Dr. Klement: So there were humans on your world back when these insects were evolving? Are you from the future too?
Admiral Lojeriha: *shaking his head* You can’t think of time as linear like that. But so you grasp it better, humans and Ochivari in Salmonverse developed at around the same time, light years apart from each other. It was a time traveling couple who accidentally went back to our past on Worlon. The current scientific theory is that the particular parasite who attacked this couple birthed babies who survived as the fittest against all competition because they had a little bit of human DNA in them. That is why, despite Ochivari and humans having no real common ancestor, we look humanoid.
Dr. Klement: So you’re saying that we’re not all that different. Perhaps there is a way for us to find some common ground?
Admiral Lojeriha: That is all we want. We are not here to cause harm. We are warriors, sworn to protect the sanctity of life. That requires a lot of killing, but we take no pleasure in it. We kill the killers; it’s what we do. We do, and we must.
Dr. Klement: *pondering his words* So, you’re heroes, is that what you’re telling me?
Admiral Lojeriha: We have never used that word. We recognize that others see us as villains. But again, we do what we must. We have seen the destruction that intelligent species induce. Our ancestors are guilty, which is why we no longer live on Worlon. If we were able, we would stop ourselves. We are that dedicated to the mission.
Dr. Klement: Well...why don’t you just do it now?
Admiral Lojeriha: Sorry?
Dr. Klement: Well, you speak of time travel as if it’s trivial. Why don’t you go back in time and kill all of your ancestors, before they get the chance to destroy your homeworld? Why is that not what you must do? Why do you only kill humans?
Admiral Lojeriha: Well, first off, I misspoke. We do not really kill. We sterilize. But if we did that to our ancestors, we would not exist. There is no paradox, but it would prevent us from being able to carry out the sacred mission for the rest of the bulkverse.
Dr. Klement: *leaning forward menacingly* Ask me if I give a shit.

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

Microstory 1987: First Date

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Myka: You’re just having water? Forgive me, it’s not a big deal, but are you sober?
Leonard: I gave it up a while ago. A friend of mine taught me how to have fun without. But I’m not judging, you go ahead with whatever you ordered.
Myka: I...just ordered water too. Did you not hear me?
Leonard: Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous.
Myka: We’ve shared a meal before. Many times.
Leonard: I know, but this is different. We’re calling it a date.
Myka: Would you feel more comfortable if we didn’t?
Leonard: No. I don’t wanna feel comfortable, I wanna be with you. *embarrassed* That’s..not what I meant.
Myka: *smiling* I get it.
Leonard: So, did you see, we got that second satellite up and running.
Myka: I did, that’s pretty cool.
Leonard: Yeah, I told them the Ochivari pretty much can’t come from space, because too many of them have to die to open a portal that big, but it should be fine.
Myka: *whispering* Should we be quieter?
Leonard: Oh, you’re right. Um...locusts often die when they swarm from too high up, because of the, uh, pressure change, so you’re better off looking for them lower down.
Myka: Is that true about locusts?
Leonard: *laughing* I don’t know, probably not.
Myka: We probably shouldn’t talk about work.
Leonard: No, no, you’re right. There must be something else we can talk about *awkward silence until the food comes* How’s your spaghetti?
Myka: Regretfully messy. Not the best food for a date.
Leonard: No, I like the way you eat it. It’s cute.
Myka: *smiling awkwardly*
Leonard: Oh my God, all we have to talk about is work, or spaghetti.
Myka: That can’t be true. We’re just off to a slow start, but we’ll make it work. What about your childhood? I don’t know much about how you grew up.
Leonard: No, you first. You lived around here when you were a kid, right?
Myka: Well, not around here. This area was way too fancy for us. I never thought of us as poor, but that’s what we were. My grandparents were super rich; all four of them. When my parents got married, they decided they wanted to do everything on their own, so they cut themselves off from family money. I always resented them for that, because it meant that I had to struggle too. It wasn’t until I was locked up that I started to appreciate their decision. Money and greed corrupt; I get that now, ya know?
Leonard: I know, I’ve seen it. I have a much older brother; I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned him. He was extremely smart. The government recruited him after he graduated from college at age seventeen. At some point, he went private, and turned into the biggest jackass I’ve ever met. I basically looked at everything he did, and tried to do the opposite growing up.
Myka: Fascinating. Tell me about your first job. It wasn’t as a parole officer, was it?

Monday, October 2, 2023

Microstory 1986: Resident Xenopsychologist

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Dr. Klement: Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding, there are a lot of cells down here. Please tell me we have far more of them than aliens to fill them.
Sasho: We only have a handful of Ochivari. This place wasn’t built for them specifically.
Dr. Klement: It’s been remodeled for them, though, right?
Sasho: Yeah. While I was on probation for the last couple of months, they took my suggestions to heart, and made modifications.
Dr. Klement: Do you want to talk about that some more?
Sasho: I thought my required therapy was over.
Dr. Klement: That doesn’t mean we can’t talk anymore. I’m still practicing; just doing double duty with this xenopsychological study they’re wanting me to start.
Sasho: You’re our resident psychologist?
Dr. Klement: One of two, actually. The department is only going to grow from here, and there is no precedent for the effects of an alien presence on the human psyche.
Sasho: So the government is worried that one of us is gonna have a nervous breakdown, and shoot up the place?
Dr. Klement: That’s one possible outcome, but it doesn’t have to get that bad to warrant my position here.
Sasho: No, that wasn’t—I didn’t mean...
Dr. Klement: It’s all right, Officer Dreyer.
Sasho: I can’t get used to that title.
Dr. Klement: You’ve earned it. You’re running an entirely new kind of jail, for an entirely foreign species. Guard just doesn’t cut it anymore.
Sasho: *nods*
Dr. Klement: So, they’re coming today?
Sasho: *consults watch* They should be on the road as we speak. I’ll be heading up to the garage to escort the prisoners here. Once that happens, I’ll be responsible for them. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be my ass...again.
Dr. Klement: I’m sure you’ll do fine, but if you’re ever feeling anxious, you can always talk to me. It doesn’t even have to be a formal session. If I’m free, we can just have a little chat. It’s not like you’re paying me directly.
Sasho: The money isn’t the issue. Nor do I take issue with the concept of therapy, or advice. When I’m talking to you, I start to feel like I’m placing a burden on you. I’m on thin ice with everyone else here. They basically went on strike, and I couldn’t be there with them. I wasn’t able to prove that I’m one of them. They still see me as a traitor.
Dr. Klement: They know that you were never a traitor; that Sergeant Sachs fooled you as much as any of them. If they didn’t understand that before, they know now. You wouldn’t be allowed to keep working here if you were a threat. They’ll see that.
Sasho: Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll keep you in mind, I promise.
Dr. Klement: Good. *looks down from the mezzanine for a bit* What’s that section over there? It’s still messy with construction stuff.
Sasho: Oh, the jail isn’t done yet. They’re trying to design a communal section that still doesn’t allow the prisoners to use their magical powers to travel the multiverse.

Sunday, October 1, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 24, 2415

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The great thing about life on Dardius was that Mateo and Karla had no responsibilities beyond caring for their child. They didn’t have to get up and go to work in the morning. They didn’t have to mow the lawn, or go out for groceries. Everything they did revolved around little Romana. They slept when she slept, and they played when she was up for it. A lot of experts will recommend not sharing a room with one’s infant, and especially not a bed, but the two of them didn’t agree. They were in little danger of accidentally harming their girl. She slept in a bassinet that was situated between the two of them in the center of a gigantic bed. Even if something happened overnight, alarms would go off, because all three of them were being monitored by medical equipment. If she woke up to cough once, the computer would log it, and if the cough kept going, and the parents didn’t wake up on their own, that alarm would go off. Karla was born to a long line of roomsharers, and this didn’t change when the Neimans made the move from Durus to Dardius. And Mateo? He wanted to give his new blended family everything they wanted or needed, so he was flexible.
Most of the rest of the team didn’t have any responsibilities either, but they were keeping themselves busy. Ramses and Leona spent a lot of time in the lab, inventing new things, and even retrofitting the shuttle. Angela and Marie wanted to learn more about the planet, its culture, and particularly the global government. They were currently in the tower next door, shadowing the owners, and sitting in on meetings. Even Constance had something to do. She decided to become Romana’s fulltime doctor. Dardius had prepared a medical team for them, but it wasn’t necessary. She possessed the knowledge and skills of four and a half billion years. She could do just about anything. After all, her prime directive was nurture and care. As for Olimpia, there was nothing. She wasn’t smart enough to work in the lab on the Dante, and she wasn’t interested in any of the boring sociopolitical stuff. She felt like a fifth wheel with the baby, so she just sat in her room, and started watching Dardieti TV. She found it a little odd. They were speaking English, and they were talking about things she had decent experience with, but it was like they were on a slightly different wavelength. Plus, she was growing bored with it too. What she needed was a native to tell her what historical programs to watch, and which ones to skip. But who has time for that?
This was a big world, and while everyone else was limiting themselves to one tiny sliver of it, she decided to go explore. They had all been able to teleport for a long time now, but hadn’t really used this power for personal reasons. There was always some specific place they needed to be, and some urgent matter to attend to there. She was just going to be a tourist. In a single day, she hiked the Mountains of Opalia, canoed on Azuria Lake, and walked the streets of Quasar City. Now, for no reason at all, she decided to return to Tribulation Island, and take a dip in the completely unpolluted ocean. But when she arrived, she was overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.
A man in military uniform was barking orders at his soldiers, who were running around, then taking formation around the Nexus. Two helicopters were flying overhead. A fleet of ships sat at various distances in the water. Olimpia thought about just leaving, since this wasn’t her business, but her curiosity got the better of her. She noticed one soldier standing separately from the others, staring out over the sea, instead of towards the Nexus building. “Forgive me. Is it all right if I ask what’s going on here?”
“How did you—oh, Miss Sangster. It’s an honor, but you should leave. It’s not safe here.” She lifted her binoculars back up to scan the horizon.
“What’s happening?”
“There’s been an incursion in the Nexus. And unauthorized visitor has come through. Don’t ask me who were why, because it’s not my job to know. I’m here to keep a lookout, in case the true threat is coming from out there, and the Nexus arrival was nothing more than a distraction.”
Olimpia looked over to see that others like her were staring up at the sky, a few of them with telescopes. “I’ve seen in movies, distractions like that. You’re smart to be concerned with other points of entry.”
“It’s unlikely anyone will come by sea, in such a sparsely populated remote galaxy, but it’s not impossible for someone to have secretly landed in deeper waters, and are now making their way here. We always keep an eye on the vastness, but we’re on high alert right now.”
Olimpia looked behind them. “My team and I just arrived through the Nexus.”
“I am aware.”
“How many visitors do you receive on average?”
“Almost none these days. We don’t make many rescues anymore.”
“So, it’s probably not a coincidence,” Olimpia guessed.
The soldier lowered the binoculars. “That’s why it’s not safe. They could be coming for you. I do not believe your team has been informed of the development, or you would not be the only one here.”
“I teleported here on a whim. I don’t know what the others are doing.”
“I urge you to go find out, to tell no one of what’s happening here, and to never return to the island unless a trusted authority has assured you that it is no longer a risk.”
No. There was no such thing as a coincidence when it came to time travelers. She may have thought that she came to this island just to feel the waves tickle her ankles, but she was here for a reason. It was her job to represent the interests of Team Matic. It was her job to keep the others safe from whatever was going on here. They all had important things to deal with. As the only free agent, it was the least she could do. “Thanks, soldier.” She stepped away and walked up to the General. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Miss Sangster.”
She waited a beat. “Report.”
“A group of six people came through the Nexus. We have safeguards in place that prevent anyone from doing that unless they call ahead.”
We didn’t call ahead.”
“Unless they call ahead, or it was prearranged,” the General clarified.
She nodded. “What are their names?”
“They’ve not said. They claim to be representatives of a multireality advocacy group working towards a cooperative future in the Sixth Key. I don’t know exactly what that means, but we’ve quarantined them in there until we can figure out how they breached our security, and why we’ve been locked out of the controls.”
“Did they say anything else?”
“They would like to establish diplomatic relations with Dardius.”
She nodded again. “I’m going in.”
The General sighed. “I can’t stop you, but I can advise you to not.”
“Noted,” she said simply. She turned to face the building, and prepared herself. Then she teleported in.
The six strangers were standing in a circle in the Nexus cavity, talking amongst themselves. When one of them noticed Olimpia’s arrival, she indicated as much with her eyes, prompting the others to turn. “Hello.” An apparent leader took one step forward, but stayed in the pit. “My name is Heath Walton of the Third Rail. Do you represent Dardian interests?”
“Dardieti,” she corrected.
He closed his eyelids softly, and nodded. “Apologies.”
“And no, I don’t.” She pulled out her handheld device, and ran a search. Heath Walton did not appear on her list of people she had met. But he was on everyone else’s. “The name of your wife.”
“Marie. Angela Marie Walton.”
“What happened to her?”
“It’s complicated. Do you know her?”
“Why are you here?”
“To establish—”
“Diplomatic relations with Darius,” she interrupted. “Yes, I’ve heard.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You do not have diplomatic experience yourself, yet they sent you?”
“Nobody sends me anywhere. I do as I please.”
“Ah. So you’re one of the elite travelers; someone so powerful that smart people know that it’s safer to just let you make your own choices than to try to get in your way, and risk turning you into an enemy. Yes, Marie is like that as well.”
“There is a Fifth Divisioner; his name, we’ve never known,” Olimpia began.
Heath’s face fell. He knew where she was going with this.
“He imprisoned Team Matic. What do you know of this?”
Heath nodded. “He was one of the few of us who happened to be in the main sequence during the Reconvergence. A copy of him materialized in the Sixth Key, and he established contact with his alternate self. He joined our group, and we asked him to find and secure Team Matic so they could return to our new universe. I wanted to see my wife again, and to offer them all to join us. They are a source of inspiration for many, and we were hoping they— wait, you’re Olimpia Sangster.”
“And if I am?”
He didn’t really answer the question. “What happened to you was wrong. We charged that man with getting you back to us. He thought that we wanted him to hurt you. He is an idiot, and an asshole, and both versions of him have since been removed from our organization. I apologize for the trouble, and the trauma. That is not what we are about. We are aware of the impending war between realities, and we are doing everything we can to stop it. We came to ask Dardius for its guidance, but since you are here as well, we ask the same of you.”
She scanned the representatives. “Do any of you have powers; temporal, psychic, or otherwise?”
“No, not even the one from the Parallel.” Heath answered, shaking his head.
Olimpia teleported out and returned a minute later with zip ties. “Let the military take you in for questioning. I’ll speak with my friends. We’ll get back to you next year.”

Saturday, September 30, 2023

Extremus: Year 59

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It’s happening. Attic Forest is this close to becoming a real thing. It has been a grueling year and a half, but Tinaya and Lilian managed to amass enough support to get approval to build it. The Resource Allocation Authority was not easy on them, and put up every roadblock they could come up with. The two of them were required to include in their proposal every little detail, right down to every individual plant in its individual location, to the size of the screws that would be used for the ventilation grate that was in the portside corner with the stern. Even then, they weren’t allowed to just go do it unless they proved that the people of the ship actually wanted it. Well, it wasn’t the kind of thing that could be left to a popular vote. The level of support they were receiving for it was so subjective, and at the mercy of other people’s interpretation. They did interviews for the newspaper, and went on talk shows. Tinaya was more in charge of all that, since Lilian didn’t like the attention, but that was okay, because that was how they sold the story. Lilian was the genius behind the design. Tinaya was the face. They made it work.
Not everyone is as jazzed about this as they are, of course, but there are no unambiguous detractors. Captain Tamm has made a point of staying out of it. He claims that this is a matter for the civilians, and the civilian government, but that’s just political posturing. It’s a waste of his political energy too. He still lives on this ship, and could support it on a personal level. He’s trying to play both sides, even though there aren’t really two sides to the issue. There’s little opposition to it; mostly people who don’t care, or don’t think it’s necessary. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s guaranteed the captaincy for the duration of his shift, unless he does something to lose the faith of the crew, government, or passengers. It’s not like he should be worried about reëlection. It’s ‘cause he’s an idiot. There’s no better way to describe it.
“Thank you, and welcome back. I’m your host, Zorion Azarola, and this...is Over the Desk.” This is one of those talk shows now. Zorion Azarola is known for his stoic and serious demeanor while he lobs his guests softball questions. Exactly what his gimmick is here, no one really understands. Maybe he thinks he hits harder than he actually does, or maybe it’s all one big joke. Either way, this is their final unofficial hurdle before the  vote. Once it passes, construction can begin on the forest, and tonight is their last chance to convince the committee. That’s why Lilian is here.
Unlike other shows of this type, the view never switches to different angles, and the blocking is very simple. That’s partially because there is no crew to speak of. The apparent idea is to be raw and sincere. The camera is on a tripod, pointing straight forward from the edge of the desk. Zorion is on one side, and up to two guests can sit at his opposite. It’s been dressed up like an office, but the books on the shelves are fake, and the knick knacks scattered about likely hold no sentimental value to Zorion. He must think of himself as the college advisor type, and the guests as his students, who he’s trying to help reach their potential. Tinaya has decided to play into it. Lilian has decided to sit there like a block of ice. She really struggles with these things.
“Captain Leithe,” he begins. “Can I call you Captain Leithe?”
This would normally be the time where she replies with an absolutely not, and a little bit of attitude, but she has to look like a saint here; a saint who can play ball. Everyone is amazing, and all of the things they say are good, and not stupid. So what would be the most polite way to word this? “It is an inaccurate, and inappropriate, title at this time. Captain Tamm is the Captain. I am a Junior Forest Guide.” That’s a new title that they came up with, which won’t be entirely accurate either until there’s an actual forest through which to guide visitors, but it’s fine.
“All right, Guide Leithe. How excited are you that this measure is about to pass?”
“I’m very excited to see this project come to fruition. It has been a long road to get here, and I feel lucky to be a part of it. And that’s what I am, a part. If I owned the whole ship, I could do whatever I wanted, but we’re all living here, and none of this would be possible if the people didn’t want it. It’s important to note that the measure has not quite passed yet. The committee is yet to vote. We’re confident in the outcome, but whatever it is, we will respect their decision, because we trust their judgment.”
“Yes, the...” Zorion stops to check his notes, or at least pretend that he is. “The Committee for Special Projects. That’s a new one, right?”
“Yes, it’s composed of government leaders, respected community leaders, and a few crewmembers. I was not the least bit involved in creating it. Obviously, it would be a conflict of interest for me. So if you have any further questions regarding the matter, I’m afraid you’ll have to call some else into your office.” She said it with a smile to keep it light. But really, she’s annoyed, because people do ask her a lot of questions about the committee, as if she’s some expert on them just because she and Lilian are the ones whose request triggered its creation. What she just told Zorion is the result of her cursory research into the subject, and she refuses to compound it with further information. It’s not her job to know, or care.”
“Fair enough,” he replies with a polite smile as well, and a mildly defensive hand gesture. He flips through his notecards, which are made of paper. Paper is made out of the wood of trees. It’s this whole process that Extremusians have never used, but recent events have changed things. Out here in the void, stars are few and far between. They do exist. Despite what some believe, intergalactic voids are not totally empty. There are probably about as many celestial objects in them as there are within the boundaries of galaxies. It’s just that the voids are so much more vast, these objects are so spread out, and difficult to find. This is why Captain Halan Yenant knew that changing course into the void was not damning his descendants to the curse of never finding a home. It’s out here, somewhere; most people still believe that. But still, it’s impossible to know for sure, especially since—even before they started heading into the void—they had not found any habitable planets along their journey. This all changed last year.
In order to maintain the ship and its systems, the engineers send automated probes to star systems as they pass by them. Since Extremus literally never stops, the only way to make use of the data and resources found in these systems is to send the probes into the past, so that they’re actually waiting for them a minute or two after departing. They don’t have to do this all the time. In fact, the original designers tried to plan a trip that would require no side missions at all. But it was necessary to come up with a solution to a problem once, and now that they know they can do it, resources are being taken for granted, forcing them to continue doing it every once in a while. Now they send probes all the time, but usually for different purposes. The majority of them are simply cataloging what they’ve found. The discovery of a world with plantlife was the biggest shocker since Admiral Olindse Belo’s disappearance a quarter century ago.
Tinaya doesn’t have all the details, because she is not yet part of the group of people making decisions about this sort of thing, but the public was made aware of the discovery when it happened. And it was also shown samples of the plants they found, which an entirely different department from Lilian’s is handling. One thing they’ve done with their samples is manufacture paper. It’s a luxury that requires an extremely high contribution score to earn. Hosting a broadcast series is one of those things that can keep your score high enough for such luxuries, though, which explains why Zorion is making use of his stash of physical paper. Obviously Tinaya couldn’t care less about paper, but she’s interested in a day when the plants they found on that planet might one day become part of hers and Lilian’s forest. That would make the accomplishment all the sweeter.
He finishes flipping through the notecards. “Sorry about that, I’ve realized that a lot of the questions I was planning to ask you have already been answered.” He pauses for a moment. “Or at least they’ve been asked.”
Oh, no. Where is this going? He’s not wrong. She’s answered the same questions in these interviews multiple times, and it’s become annoying for her, but he’s the first interviewer to express any concern over it. How can she stop him from asking whatever he thinks he should ask her? “I suppose...” She trails off, but makes it clear that she’s not finished with her thought. She just needs to find the words. “It’s just...what’s happening here is quite simple. Parks and forests promote a healthy and satisfying life. All studies from Earth, its neighboring orbitals, and its colonies in the stellar neighborhood, have proven time and time again that stone, metal, and metamaterials just. Don’t. Cut it. Life wants to be around other life. It is a biological imperative, and regardless of what we have been forced to endure in our history, on Ansutah, in the cylinders, and yes, even on Extremus...we are still human. All life naturally evolved to thrive on Earth. Except for those aliens plants we found, I guess...and the ones on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. Earth is positively brimming with life. And that second exception only proves the point, because it’s just another example of how it works. Life craves life.
“It’s not so much that Lilian and I want this project to go through. It’s that the Extremusians need it. You will be so happy when you get to go there for the first time. Your brain will release chemicals that will make your heart and soul feel good. You’ll feel human again, and that may be hard to beehive now, because you don’t know you’re missing yet. But it will be there. Your life will improve, I promise you that. Everyone who lives on this ship will be that much happier for it...until we find our Promised Land on our ultimate destination. We’re not on our way to find some rock in the middle of nowhere, are we? Who needs that? We can find that anywhere. Who gives a shit how far from Gatewood we’ve flown? We’ve always been looking for the forest. We’ve always been looking for life. All we’re doing is...letting those of us who will not be alive to see the Extremus planet get just a small taste of what our descendants will know and love.” Tinaya turns to face the camera, which Zorion discourages, but this is too important. “For the members of the committee who are watching this, there is only one choice here. If Extremus doesn’t get its forest, it will die. I’m not just talking about contribution scores. Our success as a people; our mission...depends on it. If you don’t believe me, just go to the park that we do have. Multiply the feeling you get by a thousand.”
“Wow,” Zorion said. “Well said, Junior Forest Guide Leithe.”
“She’s a Senior Forest Guide, Mr. Azarola,” Lilian said after being silent this entire time.”
“Well.” He takes a breath. “I believe this is a good time for a break. We’ll return with our next guest soon.” With a smile, he lifts his remote, and switches off the camera.
The next day, the vote passes. Project Attic Forest is a go.

Friday, September 29, 2023

Microstory 1985: New Direction

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software
Henley: O.
Ophelia: Yeah, is everything okay?
Henley: No, the others are getting antsy.
Ophelia: All we can do is wait. No one knows we’re here. I mean, of course the others do, but no one we need to be worried about.
Henley: They’re not worried about being discovered. But we all know that we can’t stay here forever. You have a family to get back to, don’t you?
Ophelia: Yes. And the only way I can keep them safe right now is to stay away from them. I hope you’re not thinking of contacting your family.
Henley: Of course not, but what’s going to happen afterwards? Parsons and the others are trying to fix this, but what if it can’t be fixed?
Ophelia: I don’t know. No one knows. That’s how life works.
Henley: Can you talk to them?
Ophelia: Are they all in that big room we’ve been eating out of?
Henley: Yeah, I think they’re expecting you.
Ophelia: Very well. *walks down to the room* Hello, everyone.
*they start to inundate her with questions and complaints*
Henley: All right, settle down. You can’t talk all at once.
Ophelia: Thank you. I have something to say. I know that we’re all sort of freaking out right now, but that’s not going to help. We have each been through worse. That’s how we ended up here. We’re doing something that has never been done before. We’re preparing for an alien invasion, and no matter what happens after the dust settles, that will always be true. When these damn locusts show up en masse, the world will see what we’ve seen, and they will know that you saw them first. They will learn how you fought against them, despite having no legal or moral obligation to. You could have gone home, and hidden in your bathtubs. You could have just completely ignored the risk. But you stood at the frontlines, and I commend you for that. One day, the history books will too. Now, by raising your hands, does anyone have any specific questions about what we should do, or what we can do about our situation? Yes, Yanna.
Yanna: When will we receive any news? Have you planned a call with Agent Parsons, or something? I think what’s causing the anxiety is not having any sort of timetable.
Ophelia: We have each other’s burner phone numbers. He’ll contact us when there’s an update worthy of our attention. It will come soon. We came up with a few code words in case he finds himself in mixed company. It’s best if you don’t know any more than that.
Reese: *steps in from the hallway* None of that will be necessary anyway.
Henley: Agent Parsons. Or should I call you Subdirector Parsons?
Reese: Neither. *pauses for dramatic effect* I’ve just been in meeting after meeting after meeting. It was all very boring, but your jobs are waiting for you when you’re ready to come back. I’m not the subdirector, but a full director. The Department of Exogenic Affairs is being spun out into its own full department. We’re no longer working under Special Investigations, but the executive branch of government. I answer directly to the National Commander. You can all relax. Everything’s gonna be okay.